Sunday, April 08, 2018

DAY 8: SWEAR

§Today we are to "write poems in which mysterious and magical things occur. Your poem could take the form of a spell, for example, or simply describe an event that can’t be understood literally. Feel free to incorporate crystal balls, fauns, lightning storms, or whatever seems fierce and free and strange." GloPoWriMotalks about Percy Bysshe Shelley and what a poetry lover he was and how he basically "thought poetry was magic and poets were wizards." That's exactly how I feel when I'm in the zone. I just spent about half an hour/forty-five minutes writing today's poem. It's strange, all right, and I like it. I basically got out of its way, which for me is when poetry magic truly happens.

Today we visited with family in Vancouver and met Solar Queen. Given enough sunshine (never a given in Vancouver), her hand waves! This has nothing to do with the poem other than the prompt suggested the possibility of a spell, and there was the skull, and next thing I knew, this happened.

ABOUT PURPLE MOUNTAIN POETRY

Okay, this is it. Where I can be found in cyberspace, should anyone be looking. In real space, I'm surrounded by mountains that often look purple. Mountains, as in those stoic granite guardians that rise above all the trials of the day, assuming your day has trials, and sooner or later, most of them do. This is where I talk about poetry, mostly. There's the occasional rant, for good measure. But no whining. Absolutely no whining.

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ABOUT ME

I've been interested in words ever since I can remember. I write poetry, a little prose, and publish chapbooks through my imprint, NIB Publishing. NIB stands for Nose in Book, where mine can usually be found.